Maurice Whelan

IN THE spring of 1766, Dublin found itself captivated by one of the most sensational criminal cases of the 18th century. Four sailors, Peter McKinley, an Irish boatswain; George Gidley, a Yorkshire-born cook; Richard St Quentin, an Englishman; and Andreas Zekerman, a Dutch seaman, stood accused of murder and mutiny on the high seas, crimes that struck at the heart of maritime law. Their trial and execution would echo through Irish folklore, but the events that placed them there were all too real

DUBLIN is truly a city of two names, Dubh Linn and Áth Cliath, each reflecting a distinct part of its ancient past. The English name ‘Dublin’ derives from the Gaelic ‘Dubh Linn,’ meaning ‘Black Pool,’ itself adapted from the Viking Dyflin. The name refers to the dark tidal pool where the River Poddle met the River Liffey, a spot that now forms part of the gardens of Dublin Castle.

DUBLIN is home to two medieval cathedrals, namely Christ Church and St Patrick’s. They stand less than one kilometre apart, but in 18th-century Dublin they stood worlds apart. Just beside and underneath Christ Church lay a district with a name as foreboding as its reputation, ‘Hell.’